


Voodoo

by britainsbrows



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: AU, Accidental Stimulation, Alfred - Freeform, Anal, Anal Sex, Arthur - Freeform, Axis Powers Hetalia - Freeform, Dubious Consent, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established America/England (Hetalia), Established Relationship, Ex-Boyfriends, Feel-good, Fetish, FrUK, Hiking, Home Invasion, Hurt/Comfort, Kink, Lemon, Light Bondage, Lube, M/M, Male multiple orgasms, Mentioned Canada (Hetalia), Multiple Orgasms, MxM - Freeform, Old Married Couple, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Porn with some plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Sex Doll, Smut, Tags for second chapter, UKUS, USUK - Freeform, Unaware, Unintentional, Voodoo, and it's always porn, anyways read, aph, because he can't be a main character because some on, being weird in public, blowjob, france is an ex, handjob, i don't know why i write so much usuk cus honestly i'm more of a fruk person, i haven't watched hetalia in years, i like hetalia, i love it, i really joined ao3 so i can tag shit like this, im gay, in a word where they're an established couple, mild fruk, prostate, public boner, read it you probably gay hetalia shit, stimulation, unaware stimulation, world sparkle, yep, yet i only write fanfiction for hetalia, you gay shit, you kinky shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britainsbrows/pseuds/britainsbrows
Summary: England stumbles upon a good stress reliever for both him and America





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this cus I have weird specific fetishes and I couldn't find much related to it so yep also this was written in june 2015 but I'm reposting it here to have a starting story on this website :)

England sat on his bed alone at one in the morning on what started out as a Tuesday night. His boyfriend, America, was out for night so he had the time to surf the web. He wasn't dressed for bed because this whole affair started at five in the afternoon the day before. This indulgence in the internet wasn't supposed to last as long as it did. This was definitely the start of an internet addiction. Who knew this was so fun? America always talked about things he had found on the web, but it never hit England how cool it'd be. The hours of the internet left England a genius on everything from the best colors for him to wear, to how to make a watermelon a flat rimmed hat. He was about click on a story about Michael Jackson's hidden dark side when something far more interesting caught his eye. How to make a voodoo doll of anyone you know. England smiled in the dim light of his computer screen, and clicked.

The article had an about section of voodoo dolls and step by step directions on how to make these magical dolls. Beyond the finishing step were directions on how to make the doll stop working. After glancing through the page England decided to save the it so he could always come back in case he needed to end the voodoo part of the doll. After doing that England got right to it.

The first step was to obtain or make a doll with a humanoid shape. It said only the shape matters. The doll could be any size, it could be stuffed, wood, or metal, have any face, and can even be an animal. England went and grabbed a stuffed gorilla that America had given him. The second step said to take a hair from anywhere on the "victim" and attach it to the doll in some way. England yanked a hair from him head and taped it to the gorilla. The next step said to chant the following words with the "victim"'s face in mind and say their name at the end while holding the doll around the waist : O esprits en font un navire de sentiment pour. England did so and added his human name to the end. For a second he stayed still like he was expecting something huge to happen, then he realized it felt like someone with large hands was holding his waist. Amazed, England let go with one hand and one of the hands leave his waist. He poked the gorilla in the belly lightly and he felt the same sensation in his own belly. He spent the next few minutes poking and prodding the gorilla just letting it sink in. Eventually, his tired late night brain thought, "Could I get off by touching the gorilla?" England placed his thumb on the groin area of the gorilla lightly, but firmly. He immediately felt a pressure on his own groin. It gave England a chill to feel something so big on him. He pressed harder and wiggled his thumb around a bit. It was a strange kind of amazing that resulted in a boner. He continued to press his thumb down and moved it around in different ways until he came. It was one of the best feelings he had ever experienced. All these years of magic and he never thought of voodoo. Not once. My God in heaven was that a mistake. England was sitting in the glow of his orgasm when he thought of an amazing prank to play on his boyfriend.

America walked into his and England's temporary apartment seven at night the next day. He had spent all yesterday morning on a plane and he spent all afternoon today on a plane back. Passenger planes are terrible. You can't do anything except eat and hope the wifi is working. He had to work all of the ride back too. Of course there was still more to do. America just wanted to lay down and sleep until after the business year ended, but if he didn't continue working now he'd never have time to finish. How did England keep all of this sorted all the time? America trudged over to his desk, sat down, pulled out his computer, and continued working on his powerpoint presentation about minimum wage.

Soon a giddy England came over on his way to the kitchen, leaned over and kissed America on the cheek. America leaned into it a bit and said hello. Still leaning over, and now with his hand entangled in america's hair, England asked how the flight was.

"Horrible and work filled. I hate this time of the year."

"I don't think anyone likes it." England said plucking a hair from America's head

"Yeah, I guess." America said, oblivious to the hair theft.

"Well, I'm guessing I wont see you upstairs until late."

"At this rate I wont be up until ten tomorrow morning."

"Okay. See you then." England said walking over to the kitchen to grab a cookie and some tape before going upstairs to bed. A stressed overworked America grunted in response, wondering why England was so... dormant today.

England could believe how things had turned out. America was stressed so this'd be a good thing for him, and England was devious so this'd be fun. When he got upstairs England took out the male sex doll he had scoured the whole town for. It was so detailed it actually had a prostate in the anus. The doll was expensive, but also the only one he could find with a penis and anus. He taped america's hair to the back of it's head and said the chant quietly. He immediately put the doll down on the floor on the far side of the bed in hopes america wouldn't feel his hands on the doll's waist. Now it was time for the fun to begin.

First England ran his finger up the forever erect penis as lightly as humanly possible. Just enough for America to get a slight tingle. He did it again, slightly harder. Then again, but with two fingers. Then he took his fingers and lightly massaged the head of the penis. He lightly licked the part of the dick where the head meets the rest of the shaft, then massaged the area lightly with his thumbs. He heard America's desk chair roll back downstairs but he didn't hear steps. England smiled to himself and put the palms of his hands on either side of the head and slid his hands down the shaft. He went back up then back down a few times then he grasped on and added his mouth to the equation by enveloping the head with his lips. He did this for a few seconds before he heard America get up downstairs and start towards the stairs. he sounded like he was struggling to walk normally. England stopped with his mouth and just used his hands. He moved his hands painfully slow. During the slower movement England heard America making his way up the stairs. Before America could finish going up the stairs, England stopped and sat on the bed with a book like everything was normal. America stopped for a second when the hands left, but then he continued on the way to the bedroom. The door opened slowly and a bright red America appeared in the doorway with his hands over his groin. England looked over at America expectantly.

"England?" America said quietly.

"Yes?"

America shifted uncomfortably "Well,uh... the thing is... I, uh... I think someone is using... magic on me or something. I didn't believe you before but... yeah." He avoided eye contact and somehow managed to get redder as he spoke. It almost made England feel bad.

"Magic? Magic how?" Feeling bad wouldn't hold England back from having a little fun.

America couldn't find words for a minute. He finally moved his hands, exposing a raging hard on. He closed his eyes in embarrassment.

"America, are you aware that those are natural?"

"Yes!" He said, defending himself, "The thing thats weird is that it feels like someone's... uh... touching it." America said the last part quickly.

"Like this?"

America's head shot up and England leaned over to the doll and grabbed onto the dick. Immediately America's expression turned into a mixture of betrayal, anger, and something else England couldn't figure out. America started to lunge at England but England had the upper hand. He gave the sex doll's penis a few firm pumps and America crumpled onto the bed mid action. England got down onto the floor between the sex doll's legs without stopping the handjob and began an intense blowjob. America couldn't bring his body to move much; The feeling of England's skilled mouth was too much for him. The trapped country wasn't able to get up without collapsing, but he did manage to drag himself across the bed while holding in sounds of pleasure. He was almost within touching distance of England when he felt a phantom finger slide into his anus and begin massaging his prostate. He couldn't do anything but lay sprawled out on the bed grabbing at the sheets and try desperately to keep from asking England for more. England knew America was in ecstasy but England wouldn't rest until he heard the sounds he knew America usually made during sex. England slid another finger into the doll's anus and used his other hand to grab onto the shaft of the penis to give a half blowjob half handjob. America couldn't help it anymore. He gasped and with every pump he made a sound of pure pleasure. He got louder and more enthusiastic the closer he got to climax. Through clenched teeth America managed to get out that he was about to cum. England went faster for the grand finale and America came hard. He gasped and cursed in ecstasy. England slowed to a stop and got up to look at America. America was sprawled out across the bed face down. His breathing was heavy, but slowing. After a second he flipped himself over revealing a still red face that was trying to be angry and a wet spot on his pants.

"You're an asshole." America got out.

England smiled, sat on the bed next to America's head and realized he should do something about his own hard on.

"A magical asshole." He added. He thought about something for a second then asked, "How?"

"Voodoo."

America laughed. "Do you have one?"

England thought about if he should lie or not. He was slightly scared to think about what America would do to him after all this. But still... "Yes. The first one I made was of me."

"What was it?"

"A gorilla."

"How am I supposed to get revenge with a gorilla?"

England was slightly taken aback by the forwardness of America. But then again, he was America.

"But wait, what do I have here?" America had a devious look in his eyes. He had noticed England's erect penis.

England put his hands over his lap. He wanted sex, but not revenge sex. Who knows what kind of cruel thing America would do.

America turned over to be on his hands and knees. England tried to get up, but before he could America had his arm around him and had pulled him flat on the bed. America was sitting on England, with his lover's hands pinned above his head before he knew what hit him. It wasn't long before England realized that America was sitting right on his boner. With one hand America took off his belt then tied one of England's wrists to the head of the bed. Then he took of England's belt and tied England's other wrist to the head of the bed. England was successfully tied up. America smiled a lust filled smile that no one would ever trust and started to grind against England's hard on. England bit his lip as blood poured into his cheeks. He thought about asking America to stop, but he realized that this is what he was hoping for. He wanted America to loosen up, and he wanted sex that wasn't too forced, now all thats left it to hope America doesn't bring him to the edge then stop.

America leaned down and started to kiss England's neck, stopping to suck every so often. That night won't be left unmarked. America made his way down to one of England's nipples and began to play with it with his tongue. His other hand was exploring the recesses of England's pants, lightly going over his dick a few times before stroking his dick exclusively. America could feel England thrust into his hand a little bit. America smiled to himself, and moved his mouth to the other nipple. He could feel that England's body was tense with feeling. With a final go over of the nipple, America sat up and focused on unzipping England's pants to set his penis free. Then the real fun will begin.

When England's pants were down America rested his head in his hand next to England's groin. With his other hand he lazily grabbed England's dick and waved it around a bit. He then took two fingers and ran them up and down the length of it, only giving England enough to want more. Much more. While he was doing that he sat up and took his other hand and placed it upon the head of England's penis. He rubbed the entire palm of his hand solely on the head. England couldn't help but gasp. He rolled his hips into America's hand to try and get him to do more. America grabbed onto the shaft with his other hand and moved it up and down slowly. He replaced his top hand with his mouth. He kept his lips firmly around the tip and moved his tongue in circles. Dancing across the slit, and rounding the sensitives sides where the head and shaft come together. England began with a chorus of "oh shit"s and "holy fuck"s. America moved the hand around the shaft to England's balls and began to bring his mouth down further to give a full blowjob. England looked up to the sky with his eyes shut tight. Holy shit that felt good. Now the only thing left was- America slid a finger into England's ass. Then two. Each thrust in brushed his prostate. England felt nothing but pure pleasure. It wouldn't be much longer before he came.

"A-america," England stuttered, "I'm gonna cum."

England's breathing became more labored as he came closer and closer to the end, and with a final arch of his back he orgasmed. America didn't remove his mouth. Just to spite England, who thought swallowing was gross, America swallowed the load. England gave an exhausted laugh.

"You have no fucking idea how relieved I am you didn't leave me on edge. I'm so relieved I barely even care you just swallowed."

"I'll make you care, you magical dick."

America leaned over and kissed England. England cringed, and moved his head to break the kiss.

"Don't," England said into his arm. "Okay untie me now."

"No," America said as he got up from the bed to change his pants.

"No?"

"No. I need to work still and I'm not going to let you distract me again. See you tommorow at ten. No, make that ten thirty now, thanks to you."

"What? No! Untie me! You bastard untie me now!" England yelled at America as he left the room. "How can you just walk away?! AMERICA! COME BACK. YOU FUCKING BASTARD."


	2. The Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now It's a few years later and the voodoo doll is all but forgotten, but it still exists, as our daring duo is about to be reminded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a few years later in real life as well. I wrote chapter one in June 2015 (as I said in the note on the last chapter) and I wrote this second chapter in April 2018. I never really planned to write a second chapter, but I felt like it yesterday so I pumped out like 6,000 words in pretty much nonstop writing. I've grown a lot as a writer since 2015 so there's probably a noticeable difference. A lot more commas, for one. I'm also about to go to college and I'm gonna minor in creative writing so that's cool.  
> I'd also like to say that I wrote this just cus, and I didn't do much revision or proofreading, and it's not the best thing I've ever written. I like writing the Hetalia porn for the shits and also for the giggles.  
> You can now read the thing I will never show another person in real life ever. I hope you like it.

 

It had been a few years since America and England had last used, or even thought of, the voodoo doll. After the first time there were more than a few times they had experimented with it, much to America’s delight. There had been a doll also made of England, though it was a ken doll as to save the expense. Besides, England was satisfied. He found he liked the feeling of being handled by hands so large and the surrounding pressure they provided. He also liked to see America’s face as he orgasmed. America quickly started to love the occasional surprise of a phantom vibrator on his prostate, or a mouth on his dick. 

As happens sometimes, though, life began to get in the way. An election year always brings a lot of stress and traveling, so the majority of the time at least one of them was out of the house. The dolls had been left unattended in a closet. When the dolls were first made the two did have the faint feeling of a wooden floor on their back at all times, as the dolls were left lying down. But, as time went on, it became a normal part of their body, and something that’s weird to not feel. 

There was one particular scary incident, a while before, where a mouse got in the house and happened to scurry over the dolls while the two were sitting together on the couch just down the stairs. Needless to say, the mouse was quickly shown the door, and the dolls were placed in a somewhat more secure area. England was also left knowing what a giant mouse paw felt like on one’s face. They quickly forgot, though, and the dolls remained where they were until The Incident.

  
  


America was in DC when it happened. He was living out of a small temporary apartment, meant only for sleeping in when he wasn’t working. The room wasn’t very interesting so he tended to like hanging out at a coffee shop or in the park, or where ever looked interesting when he wasn’t at the office. The particular time and day it happened he was at a small coffee shop across town from his apartment. He had just walked from the office he was at that day and stopped at the first place he thought looked interesting. He only had a book with him. He didn’t grab his phone or laptop because he wanted nothing to do with work. He needed a little break. After about fifteen minutes of reading and sipping on hot chocolate, he felt the beginnings of it.

  
  


England was visiting Canada when it happened. He was staying at the house Canada had in the mountains. He liked to go nature watching there, and offered to take England on a hike with him. England basically said “fuck it” and came to stay for a few days. Canada forbade the use of technology outside the house so as not to be distracted from the beautiful surroundings, and also as to not disturb the nature they were watching. England reluctantly agreed to leave his smartphone, but begged to have a way to make calls in case of emergency. After some convincing Canada agreed it was a good idea, and brought along his flip phone. The particular day and time it happened they had been hiking for most of the day. They were finishing up lunch when England felt the beginnings of it.

  
  


France, being an old man simply disguised as a thirty year old, liked to wander and snoop around. He was bored, and felt he had exhausted all options for some mental stimulation. Football hadn’t started yet, his knitting was all done, there were no more books left in the world, and the TV was boring. In his mind there was nothing to do but bothering other countries. He had visited Germany, Italy, Poland, and had tried to visit Switzerland, that week already. 

That day he woke up, made breakfast, sat down at the TV, tried to find something good, couldn’t, then made up his mind to bother England and America. He got dressed, and was on the train to London within the half hour. 

When he finally got there he made a beeline for their address via an “uber”. He was always proud of himself when the car showed up. He did technology! He didn’t even have to give them money, and they listened to him talk well. Though, he had a feeling that his London driver was having a hard time understanding him. His accent wasn’t even that thick, how dare he not understand him. When he got out of the car, said thank you and the driver responded in perfect french. The nerve of this “uber” man, making him speak in english when he didn’t have to. Three stars for him. As he attempted to figure out the rating system on the app he realised the depths he had sunk to in the search of something to think about and do. He was upset at the poor “uber” man for nothing. He looked at the house he stood in front of. England could not know he was a boring old man now. He straightened his jacket and scarf, and stode to the front door. 

When he arrived at the door he knocked first. When there was no response he rung the doorbell. Then again. He looked in the window and saw no movement at all. He gave a short sigh, and walked with quick annoyed steps to the garage. He punched the code in that he may or may not have gotten of off a paper left out during a previous visit, and saw the car was gone. Damn it all. He had come all this way for them to not be home. He pulled out his phone to try and get another uber when he paused, and looked at the door to the house inside the garage. He could go in. It was right there if he wanted. There was no real competition in his mind. He walked right in. 

Before he knew it he was in their kitchen trying to find something edible. Of course, there were very few potential options. It was evident no one had been home in a few days, and on tip of that England made sure few things were even remotely salvageable. It’s a disgrace England can say Gordon Ramsey is a natural born citizen of his. Imagine where he’d be if he were French. France ended up having eggs for dinner as well as for breakfast. The fact the food was free made up for it, though. 

After his dinner he gave himself a tour around the house. Their closet was full of predictably tasteless clothing. Their bedroom was boring. Their bathroom was very red white and blue. What kind of gays were these? They should had never been trusted with decorating a house. Or dressing themselves, for that matter.

He wandered in what he guessed was the guest room. It was small, but admittedly comfortable looking. Might as well sleep there. He’d deal with it if they come home, but he doubted they would. He spotted a closet door in the corner of the room. Extra pillows and another blanket would be nice, he figured, so he decided to check in there. 

When he opened the door he was greeted with a full size high quality male sex doll, complete with open mouth, big dick, and what looked to be an asshole. What the hell. It was especially surprising considering they had each other. Why did they need a sex doll on top of it? If anything,  _ he _ needed it. Next to it there was a ken doll, butt naked. A little friend. He picked up the ken doll and looked it over. Smooth and dickless like every other barbie brand doll. He absentmindedly picked at the skin tight underwear molded onto the ken for a moment before tossing him onto the bed. Now, the big guy. It looked to be clean, and even pretty dusty. So it was unused, at least had been for a long while. France sat back on the bed weighing his options. He grabbed ken again just to have something to play with. He liked rubbing it’s abs with his thumb because it was so smooth. To fuck, or not to fuck?

  
  


England was sitting on a log, exhausted from the day of hiking. And it was only half over. On top of it he got up extremely early because of the time zone change, and it felt like dinner time, not lunch. The was day supposed to be almost over, not halfway through. He groaned internally, and shoveled more beans in his mouth. Canada was happy, though. He loved this kind of stuff. England was iffy on it in the first place, and now he was drained of all energy. He was tempted to use whatever energy might be left to wrestle the phone from Canada and demand to be airlifted back to London. 

He had a spoon in his mouth when he felt a large hand wrap around him, and gravity go weird as he was rocketed into the air. Half sure King Kong had gotten him, he screamed and fell backwards. For a moment he struggled on the ground.

“Arthur!” Canada threw his beans down and rushed over see what happened. “Arthur, are you okay!?”

England realized he was not in the hands of a gigantic gorilla, but the fact remained there was a large hand holding him. He knew he was high off the ground, but at the same time he knew he was firmly on his back on a mountain in Canada. He propped himself up on his elbows, his breathing frantic, and his eyes wild. A regular sized hand touched his shoulder and he snapped his head up to see a worried Canada over him.

“What’s going on, are you okay? Can you hear me? Arthur?”

Before England could find words, something very big was lightly scratching his hip. It almost tickled. He grabbed his hip and tried to get up and away from the feeling. He saw clearly that nothing was there, but something  _ was _ there. He was barely on his feet when he was free flying through the air. Disoriented, he fell to the ground, and at the same time he hit the ground he also hit what felt like a giant pillow. Then it stopped. He was just lying on a pillow. 

A pillow. Jesus Christ, that’s right, the ken doll. America must have been at home. He was just playing a joke, that’s all. 

He tried to catch his breath, and the fact that Canada was yelling, worried, hit him.

“I’m fine.” England tried to say at least somewhat comfortingly.

“Fine?! You just ran around like you were being attacked by a swarm of bees!” 

“It’s okay, I’m fine.” He tried to get up, though it was hard to so quickly adjust to being sunk in a pillow and also standing up. He decided to just sit on the ground. “Can I use the cell?”

Canada looked bewildered at England.

“Please?” England said less nicely.

Canada shook his head and dug through his backpack.

“Are you sure you’re fine? I shouldn’t have taken you out so far. Do you want to stay here for a while so you can rest up? Maybe you’ll feel better then? Eh? Arthur?” He looked up with the flip phone in hand and saw England bent over with his arms firmly grasping his chest, and his eyes shut tight.

“Arthur! I knew you weren’t okay, just relax. I’ll get out the sleeping bag I brung, okay? You can lay down for a bit! Can you hear me, Arthur?” Canada had a hand on England's shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. 

He could hear Canada, he was just not enjoying the feather light rubbing over his whole chest in the least bit. Covering himself did nothing to help. It was all he could do to not shiver and try and wiggle away from it. He knew it wouldn’t help. He needed to call and tell America to knock it the fuck off.

“Can you just give me the bloody phone?” He got out with a slight waiver in his voice.

Canada wasn’t sure if he should protest or not, but he handed the phone to England without argument. England could get scary when he was angry, and he seemed to be pretty pissed.

England snatched the phone from Canada’s hand and dialed his house phone. The first time he didn’t get the number right, and he nearly hurled the phone into the woods. He took a breath and dialed again, desperately trying to ignore the hand around him. It rang once. Then twice. Then the hand disappeared, and he was sunk into the pillow again. He was going to pick up the phone. Third ring. What was he doing? Fourth ring. Fifth ring. 

“Arthur?” Canada tried gently, seeing that England had moved his arms, and seemed to be in less distress.

England shot Canada a deadly look, and Canada decided to shut right up.

Sixth ring. Someone picked up the phone.

“AMERI-”

He hung the phone up. Hoo boy, America was in for it when he got back. He just better hope he doesn’t pick up the bloody fucking ken doll again. He called America’s cell phone to no avail. Same with his work phone. He would find some strongly worded messages when he bothered to look, the bastard.

  
  


France wandered back into the guest room after stopping the phone ringing. It said it was Canada on the caller ID. Canada’s a nice boy, he’d just call back later. In any case, he had made up his mind. He was going to give the poor doll some much needed use. He grabbed it and lifted it onto the bed. He looked it over and decided it definitely needed a wipe down to get rid of the dust. He was going to need to clean the ass and the mouth too if he wanted to use those, which he undoubtedly did.

He found some wipes, first off, and wiped the doll down. There was a fair amount of dust, so it took a few minutes. When he was satisfied he grabbed a towel and found a spray bottle, which he made sure was filled with warm water. He set it up so the water that leaked out landed on the towel. He left it there for convenience sake, as it would be likely be needed later. As the next orders of business he found some lube in England’s bedside table, started his sexytime playlist on his phone playing, and undressed. He hadn’t masturbated in a few days, so this coming orgasm was going to be overdue.

France, butt naked in someone else's empty house, climbed onto the bed with the doll. He squirted lube into his hand and started stroking himself.

  
  


America was peacefully reading a coffee shop when he felt two hands grab him under the armpits and left him into the air. He stood up immediately, the chair falling down behind him, and spun around to try and see who was there. No one. Only a surprised looking old lady with some coffee. He was breathing quickly. What was that? As he frantically looked around he saw everyone in the coffee shop was watching him. He turned a little red, and felt himself dropped on a soft surface. He stumbled back into the table, thrown off balance at the sudden change in gravity. The bell over the door rang as someone hurried out of the shop. 

“Are you okay, dear?” The old lady asked.

America looked at her, then at the rest of the people in the coffee shop. He grabbed his armpit where the hand was just a moment ago. Satisfied nothing was there, he nodded.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

America shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ll-” he stopped as a finger ran down his chest. He grabbed at it, like he was trying to catch a spider, but found nothing to grab. 

“Are you sure, dear? You don’t-”

“I’m good.” America cut her off as he hurried out of the shop. 

As he walked as quickly as possible to the office, to his phone, he racked his brain. Magic. It had to be. Those were hands, phantom hands. He was a block away from the office when it hit him. How could he be so stupid, it was the doll! The voodoo shit England did. Jesus, they hadn’t used the dolls in forever. Why now? Was England home already? He was supposed to be at Canada’s cabin in the woods. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of the possibility it wasn’t England. It had to be. 

He was anxiously waiting for the street to be clear to cross when something cold and wet was suddenly rubbed all over his face. Out of instinct he jerked back and brought his hand up to cover his face, but, of course, it had no effect. He opened his eyes, against their will. There was a tourist-y looking family watching him with caution. America became a shade more red again, and smiled through the phantom wipe. 

“The flies are crazy, huh?” He said taking a swipe at the air.

The dad nodded his head, and slowly herded his family away. America sighed and had to turn his full attention back to the main problem. The cloth, or wipe, he was going to guess, was being rubbed all over his head, not just his face. He put his hand on the top of his head to help ground him in reality. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, don’t think about it. It was hard to keep the mantra when the wipe went inside his fucking mouth and  _ down his throat _ . He ran over the nearest wall and steadied himself as he tried not to throw up. He heaved a little, and thankfully it left his mouth before he actually threw up right there on the street. What the fuck?! They never used the mouth because it fucking sucked to have a phantom dick he had no control over choking him. It was better, and more fun, to just use his actual mouth instead. Why would he shove his whole hand in there?

The wipe went to his neck and chest. It gave him goosebumps a little, but he would survive. The road was clear now, and he ran across. He ducked into the building, swiped his card to get into the elevators, and waited. He tried to ignore the wipe now on his legs and groin. As the door opened up the cold wipe made what felt like a thorough cleaning of his dick and balls. He had to walk through it, however extremely uncomfortable it was to do so. The wipe moved on after succeeding in making America notably less flaccid, and finally left after making a quick pass over his asshole.

The elevator seemed to go slower than ever. Around the eighth floor he felt his butt lifted up, then put back down. But that wasn’t the end of it, oh no. Next something was shoved into his ass. It wasn’t very long or thick. It kind of just felt like the tip of an unsharpened pencil. Before he could think about it too long, though, something was sprayed into his fucking ass. He jumped, and almost grabbed himself, but common decency stopped him just in time. When it had happened the elevator doors opened again, there was someone looking into the elevator. She was about to step in, but thought better of it when she saw the somewhat disgruntled looking young man with his hands strategically covering his crotch staring out at her. Little did she know he was enduring having water sprayed into his rectum. 

It continued until the doors opened on his floor. He almost ran out to get to his desk, but he managed to restrain himself. When he got to his desk he practically fell into his chair, and grabbed for his phone frantically. He saw he had a three missed calls, and one voicemail, all from Canada from just five minutes ago. He never calls more than once, and never leaves a voice message unless it’s extremely important. Worried, he decided to listen to the voicemail before calling England. When he pressed play he heard an angry England yelling at him to stop it with the doll. With horror, America realized that England was still with Canada.

He immediately knew he needed to find a secluded space. He spied an empty conference room, and ducked in there. He closed all the blinds, and called Canada. As it rang he felt someone straddle over him. He tried not to think about it. 

“AMERICA.” England answered. He was using his country name, he was upset.

“Arthur, listen-”

“You listen, America, this is not fucking funny. I’m far from in the mood to deal with your little practical joke.”

“It’s not me!”

“It-” England paused. “What?”

“I thought it was you!”

“It’s happening to you too?”

“Yeah! I’m freaking out a little. I don’t know who’s fucking touching me.” As if on cue, a hand wrapped around the head of his dick, and started what felt like a slow handjob. America breathed in sharply.

“What?! What happened?”

“They’re, like… giving me a handjob.” America said breathily.

“No! I won’t let them! They can’t!” England proclaimed. America heard a concerned Canada in the background. England addressed him, “It’s a long story.”

The hand left, and for a second America hoped that was it, but it was quickly replaced. Slowly his dick was enveloped by, what was unmistakably, someone’s butt. He squirmed in his chair, and crossed his legs hoping to lessen the effect. He realized he had been holding his breath and let it go before quicky sucking in more air again.

“What, what?”

“They’re sitting on me. Like…  _ me _ .”

“I’ll kill them.”

America could only sit there and feel the mystery person now lifting themselves up, and sinking down again. The worst part was that it was some great sex. England could only try and comfort America over the phone.

“Alfred?”

“Yeah?” He said, very distracted.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to destroy those dolls when I get home.”

America wasn’t really listening. He lost his attention pretty quickly as he started butt fucking this someone. Whoever it was knew what the fuck they were doing. He felt himself going to the edge a lot faster than he wanted to. They started going faster and America thought that was going to be it, but they slowed down and started rolling their hips. It made him gasp. America didn’t know what to do with his body. Usually he had England to hold onto, but now he had no one. He pressed the phone against his ear, and with his other hand he was squeezing the chair’s arm. He squirmed in his seat as they sped up and stopped, then went slowly and sped up again. It was quickly becoming unbearable. His breathing got more laboured.

“Alfred, talk to me.”

American tried to talk through breaths “Arth… ur… I… I’m sorry.”

“Why? Don’t be sorry.”

“I’m gonna-” America gasped as he came in his pants. He quickly realized that the other person was not done. He grabbed his dick to try and lessen the pain of being so extremely overstimulated. He couldn’t help but gasp and groan into the phone with every thrust.

“They’re… still going…”

“Fuck. Just breathe through it, it’ll be over soon.”

They kept going. Eventually pain mostly gave way to pleasure, and he found himself heading for a second orgasm in a matter of minutes. A new record. 

“Arthur!” America got out as he climaxed for the second time.

“Did you just come again?”

It took a moment for America to collect himself enough to answer. “Yeah.”

“Jesus, are they done now?” 

America was folded over his legs, and his free hand was grasping at his pants, frantically searching for something good enough go hold onto.

“No.” He gasped, writhing in his chair.

“They can’t keep going forever.”

America wasn’t sure any more. They started to go consistently faster, and it was driving him crazy. The pain stayed for longer this time. Finally he felt himself getting hard once again, and the pain subsided a bit. Orgasm was approaching shakily, but he was getting there. They were going what felt impossibly fast, when they came down hard, and stayed there. 

America caught his breath. He was so sensitive he was sure he could feel every little movement they made. He felt them jerking their hips a small amount, and he could feel their anus pulsating as they sat there. Those little things were enough go drive him mad now, as he was so close to the edge for the third time in less than ten minutes.

After what could have been forever, they slid themselves off, near painfully slow.

“They’re done.”

“Good. That sounded like it was a lot.”

“Yeah. Fuck, I’m close still. _ Fuck _ .” America was palming his dick through his pants hoping to relieve himself, but it just hurt. He had lost the groove. He still felt so damn close to the edge and he couldn’t do a thing. He almost wanted to cry he was so frustrated with the whole situation.

“You’re close? You were going to cum  _ again _ ?”

“I couldn’t exactly help it.” America said through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, it’s just, there is untapped stamina here.”

“This isn’t exactly the best time.” He gasped as he adjusted himself in the chair. “God, I’m right on the edge, but it hurts to touch it.” America was gripping the chair with all his might and his hips were thrusting a small bit out of pure primal instinct. 

“Just, uh… try and think of things that’ll turn you off. See if that helps.” 

“Okay. Uh, the Queen? She’s not sexy. I wouldn’t want to do her.” America said, straining.

“I should hope not.” America could almost hear the face England was making. He smiled at the image, but his dick quickly turned the image into one of England hovering over him during sex with eyes of pure lust.

“Arthur, don’t talk. You’re too sexy.”

“Really?”

“Shut up!” The Queen, the Queen, the Queen, the Queen. It actually started to work. But, as misfortune would have it, France was not finished.

France almost came riding the doll, but he stopped himself. Nothing like a little edging to keep things going. He was holding the base of his shaft and feeling it pulse. He held until he felt his body start to calm down a little. He deemed it time to try out the ass. He repositioned the doll so its legs were spread apart, and turned it so he was standing and the doll was lying at perfect height. He ran his hands along the legs, like he would a real lover, then lined himself up with the tight hole. He was about to push in, when he thought of something. Was there a prostate molded in there? He stuck his finger in, and right where you’d expect to find it, it was. Cool. He took his finger out, all discoveries having been made, and pushed himself in, slowly, savouring every second.

“They’re still there! They just moved me on the bed.” Subconsciously, America opened his legs as the dolls were opened. “I think he’s gonna fuck me.” He wasn’t sure how this was going to feel having orgasmed twice already, then switching to being penetrated. He and England never did so much.

“You okay?”

“I’ll make it.” America prepared himself for a dick, but instead he got a gentle caress of his inner thigh. The hands went up and down, the thumbs drawing little swirls as they went. He got a chill. Usually England would stroke his thighs just like that before starting the real play. It was something he only knew England to do. He came to think of it as a very personal thing between him and England, and here this mystery person was doing it.

“They did your thing.”

“My thing? What are you talking about, what thing?”

“Where you do the swirls and stuff, your thing.” He held his breath as a finger entered his ass, and found his prostate with great ease. It stroked his swollen gland a quick couple times before retreating. He managed to hold in sound, but his whole body tensed. There was never a time before it felt that intense. Oh god, how was he going to survive a whole cock in there.

“I thought… wait.” England was thinking out loud to himself. “No… if that fucking cunt is doing this, I will kill him. I’ll declare war.”

“Babe, what are you talking ab-” The rest of the word was taken away as his breath caught in his throat. A dick, that felt to be bigger than England’s, was pushing into him slowly. Why not draw this out longer than it had already gone on for? Slow. Why not.

“Update.”

“He’s in, now.” 

“That  _ ass _ .”

“You’re… talking like… you… know who it-  _ fuck _ … who it is.” America spoke between breaths. He was so sensitive, even down there. His prostate was the real killer here. It felt like no matter if the guy was aiming for it or not he was always hitting it. This would be much better if he were at home with England, and not in an office building hundreds of miles away from the one person he’d actually want to fuck.

“I don’t know for sure. And if I’m right, I don’t know if you’d want to know.”

“ _ Just…  _ just _ tell me. _ ”

“Okay, okay. I think… it might be France. He’s the one who showed me, I guess you can say, the “swirly” thing. And he’s the kind to sneak into someone’s house and sniff out their hidden sex doll.” England moved the phone away from his face and again addressed Canada, “Long story.”

England was right; he didn’t want to know. Maybe it wasn’t France. France, who was like his weird old uncle who liked the ladies and the hunks a little too much. France, who you didn’t like being around all the time. France, who was like two thousand years old, or something. France, who might have his dick, granted inadvertently and indirectly, buried in America’s ass. 

“Oh, God.” He groaned, this time only half about the sensations.

They, now revealed to be France, started to pick up the pace. America was barely hanging on. The fact he now imagined France in and above him helped to hold him back, though. 

“I’m sorry, Alfred. It’ll be over soon. He has to be almost done.”

“Can you stop saying that?! He’s been at this for… like fifteen minutes now! Isn’t he ancient? How’s… how’s he doing this?” America said breathily. The fact it was probably France was a pretty good distraction, though he barely knew the meaning of distraction anymore. Everything in his world now revolved around the hope of one final orgasm, and the end of this. A “distraction” now meant he could squeeze in another whole coherent thought, and be able to even talk like a person.

“He’s not much older than me.”

“You think you’re… some kind… of … adonis?”

“You’re nothing great yourself, prick.”

America gave a short laugh that morphed into a groan. He was so close, just like he’d been for the last six minutes. A third orgasm was a lot more evasive than the first two. There were so many times he was sure he was going to cum, but it faltered, and he was just left on a frustrating never ending edge.

“Art- Arthur… I can’t… fucking…cum.”

“It’s almost over. Just… think of things that turn you on, if you want to cum.”

France was going near frantically now. All the softness and thoughtfulness he showed earlier was gone, and replaced by blind thrusting. America had the feeling France was close to finishing. He couldn’t stop now, not until America was ready. 

He tried to come up with things he liked. Vibrators, light bondage, football, and, uh, England, he liked England. He thought of the time he woke up to an orgasm because England sucked him off while he was still sleeping. He wanted to help with his morning wood, he said. He loved that time. And the time England decided to join America in the shower out of nowhere. He ended up slipping and taking America down with him. They both escaped the shower without so much as a bruise, miraculously. They had a quickie as they recuperated, and they had to get back in the shower. They showered separately. There was the time England nearly made him orgasm in the back of a movie theater just by fondling him through his khaki shorts. One of their first dates was Woodstock, and that whole thing was interesting, even without LSD. England was on LSD, though, so that probably helped him. And there were so many times in the bedroom England did something that would catch him off guard and make him cum near instantly. He had picked up a few tricks in his day. England was the biggest turn on, almost in of himself. He cared so much for America, and was very bad at hiding it. It was adorable. 

America thought of England and his sex face, and he had no problem climaxing. Soon after he felt the familiar feeling of someone cumming inside him.

 

France came finally with some long pumps, and an explosion of feeling. He stood immobile for a while just basking in the afterglow. He eventually pulled out, and flopped down on the bed beside the doll, pulling it in for a snuggle. He traced light circles on one of the doll’s collarbones, and slowly fell into a late afternoon nap.

 

“He’s done.” America was trying to catch his breath as he started to finally relax.

“For sure?”

“Yeah. He’s doing the thing you do where you trace the circles on my shoulder and neck and stuff.”

“Oh?” America could hear the blush.

“You never told me you guys dated.”

“What? Who told you that? That’s a lie.” 

“So you guys just happen to do the exact same thing specific things, then?”

“I…well…uh...” 

“Shh, it’s fine. I just want to know. Who got what from who?”

There was a long pause.

Finally England quickly mumbled, “It was a long time ago, I don’t remember.”

“Alright, whatever. I’ll ask again later.”

“Don’t bother, because that’s all you’re getting.”

America gave a tired laugh. He could go for a nice nap. He closed his eyes and imagined the circles being traced on his collarbone were from England.

“We’re going to hike back to Canada’s house now. I’m going straight to an airport from there. I’ll meet you at your apartment sometime tomorrow. I’ll text you updates.”

“No. Go home. I’ll see you there. I’ll go the airport in a bit and catch the first flight I can.”

“Alright. How are you doing? Where are you, even?”

“I’m tired. And I’m in an empty conference room at the office I’m at. I just hope no one saw me or anything. My pants are destroyed, and I probably reek. I don’t know how I’ll get out without people knowing I jizzed in my pants at least once.”

“Google it? I bet there’s something.”

“Probably. I’m going to go take a nap at the apartment before I go to the airport. I’m pooped.”

“Okay. If I manage to get home before you I’ll beat the hell out of France for you.”

“You sure you don’t mind confronting your ex?” America said mockingly.

“Goodbye, America.” 

“Love you.”

England sighed. “Love you too. See you tomorrow.”

“Yep. Bye.”

“Bye.”

America put the phone on the conference table, and put his head down next to it. Before he knew it, he fell asleep half feeling someone embracing him.

 

_ To Be Continued _


	3. The Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England beats up a Frog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll warn y'all ahead of time that:  
> 1) this chapter is not sexy. Not sexy in the slightest.  
> 2) There are mentions of rape  
> 3) I've never written deep deep stuff like this before, but I couldn't think of a logical way to turn it funny and/or sexy so this is what we're left with  
> 4) enjoy?

England and America managed to arrive at Heathrow within the same early morning hour. The first footstep America took out of the terminal he was embraced by familiar arms. With no hesitation all bags were dropped and England squeezed like his life depended on it.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, you hear? Jesus.”

“I’m fine,” America reassured, his face buried in a jacket collar. “I’m tough.”

England moved his hand to the younger’s hair and gave a couple little strokes. “I know.” 

They embraced for long moments before America gently pushed away. Neither of them wanted to let go.

“Let’s go get the car.”

////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\

The car ride was tangibly silent. After a couple songs there was an unspoken agreement that nothing is best, and the music was switched off. The only thing left was the rumble of the highway, and other cars biting England’s dust as he sped past the morning commuters. There was no way in Hell England was going to let France get away. He’d sooner die than let such a crime that had been committed go unpunished. America, on the other hand, wasn’t so much for the vengeance. He was more for forgetting. Why would he need to forgive, when he could simply forget? Forgiveness was probably something he would not be able to provide fully, but violence wasn’t about to solve anything either, except the lack of police in the neighbourhood. There was no use in trying to talk to England. He was the most stubborn, former ruthless ruler of the Empire where the sun don’t set, that he’d ever known. If he wanted to punch someone, and he made up his mind about it, you can be sure he’d do it. Not that America had a history of pure pacifism, but embarrassments aren’t something he liked to address. Especially when the embarrassment was being fucked without his control and being helplessly forced to cum three times in twenty minutes, all without even so much as seeing who was doing it. This was definitely something he’d rather never bring up again. In the back of his mind he even regretted calling England. England is not one to forget, and he will definitely never forget this.

England swung around the corner onto their street. There was no car out front. England parked the best he cared to in the mental state he was in, and lept out of the car to the front door. America had to reach out and grab the keys out of the ignition. The front door must have been unlocked because England had disappeared inside. America gathered all their bags and trudged inside. As he approached the door he began to hear screeching and yelling coming from two ridiculous grown men.

“OW! STOP!”

“SHUT! UP!”

America could imagine what was happening. With no reaction he walked upstairs to the bedroom and dropped all their bags on the floor. As he walked in the screams ran down the hallway and downstairs.

“OH NO YOU DON’T, PRICK.”

“I’M SORRY! I’M SO SORRY, ANGLETERRE! I SHOULDN’T HAVE SLEPT H-”

“FUCKING PERVERT!”

“Ho- ARGH. I’M LEAVING, IS THAT NOT WHAT YOU WANT?”

America sighed and shut the bedroom door. He could still hear them - and the rest of the country probably could as well - but there was separation now. He locked it for good measure. It was the time to take a nap. Or at least lay down and try to forget what was happening.

The two ran around the ground floor for a while before going into the basement. That France decided to run down there, where there is only one entrance and exit, and where there are not even windows, is probably a testament to his personal strategic prowess. With one last unintelligible shout from England everything went quiet. For a moment America thought he cast a spell or whatever magic shit he does, but France eventually said something back, no longer shouting. His voice was still raised though, or else America wouldn’t have been able to hear. The voices settled down to the point America couldn’t hear anything for a good ten minutes. He simply laid, trying to will himself asleep, when he was not in the least bit tired.

////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\

When France decided to flee into a closet as a final resort and lock himself in there, he quickly discovered that the closet was actually the basement. He almost fell down the stairs, but he caught himself and ran down the stairs instead. England was behind him screeching like a madman about how dead he was going to make him. Why was he so violently upset about him squatting this time? How did he know he was there? It sounded like he knew about last night’s love affair with the latex man, but how? Nothing made full sense, and now he was running for dear life around a basement trying not to be beaten up more than he already has been. He could feel a nasty bruise forming on his cheek. If this were a couple hundred years back England probably could have broken his jaw and liberated him of a couple teeth on top of giving him a nasty bruise.

England tried to close in on France, but he was hiding behind anything he could find, jumping from behind a chair to behind a shelf to whatever was next closest. “STAY FUCKING STILL FUCKING FROG PRICK!”

France grabbed at the closet implement and ended up with a wrench in his hand. He pointed it at the crazed attacker. “STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU PSYCHOPATH!”

England smacked it out of his hands faster than France could see him coming. In an instant England had finally cornered him, but he did not strike. Instead he shoved his pointer finger into the taller man forcefully and accusingly. “STAY AWAY? YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE.”

France gestured to punctuate each word. “What. Are. You. TALKING ABOUT? YOU ARE MAKING NO SENSE! BEFORE WHAT? I SLEPT OVER?”

There was a terrifying fire in England’s eyes that France had not seen is a long, long time. “RAPIST.” England shoved France into a wall, and France did not fight it. He crumpled to the ground, shocked.

Rape? He had never… would never… 

France stayed still for long moments. Finally he looked up with wide eyes filled with confusion and hurt. His met with striking green eyes which held a fire being put out by a sudden flood of tears. England shut his eyes tight, and covered his face with his hands, surprised at the sudden flood of emotion upon seeing France’s reaction. 

England made a weak battle cry through his tears, and took a chair and threw it into a different wall. It didn’t break. Defeated, England collapsed into a sitting position on the cement ground, his face buried in his hands, crying silently, his chest heaving and his breaths choppy.

France was at a loss for what to do. The man beat him, accused him of something unspeakable, and then broke down crying. France wanted to cry, himself, but he felt an obligation to comfort him. He was like his stupid estranged little cousin, and he was crying. And he hated crying, too. Seldom has Mister ‘Rule the World’, ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ cried. At least in front of France.

“Eng…” He started slowly. “Um… Arthur?”

England showed no signs of listening.

“It’s… It’ll be alright. I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m sure it’ll work out, okay? Arthur?”

England did not move. There was near silence, barring England’s muffled noises for what felt like a long time. France eventually resigned himself to staying put until England was ready to move.

Finally, after minutes of waiting, England said something.

“I can’t protect him.” He poked his head out and stared at something away from France as he spoke, as if he were addressing an empty room. “When he was little I was his protector. He looked up to me. If something went wrong I could help him. But… things changed. For a long time he was his own entity figuring himself out. Then we worked together again. Then again and again, until we knew each other again. We had long since been family, and we were no longer strangers. We were friends. Obviously, we came to be more than friends, then I was able to be protective again. But I only delude myself. I’m not the strong one. I haven’t been strong in a long time. I want to be helpful, but I can’t. I can’t protect him from a stupid magic trick that was my fault in the first place. I can’t even break the goddamn chair.  
“I used to be on top of the world, Francis. I used to be the world. But now look at me.”

“Arthur… Alfred does look up to you. It may not be the same way he did when he was a child, but he does. You would have to be an idiot to not realize this.”

England did not react to the jest, but he did look at France.

“I suppose I should show you what happened.”

“Please. Do.”

////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\

England and France made their way to the guest bedroom, and England found the doll of himself. He sat himself firmly on the bed before slowly reaching down to grab it off the floor. Even though he fully knew contact was coming he still jumped when he touched the doll. It is a difficult feeling to become accustomed to. Ever so carefully, he lifted the doll and placed it on his lap. He took the hair off and said a quick counter-spell. It felt like someone had lifted a small weight off of himself that he didn’t even realize was there. He picked up the doll again, and he felt nothing. It was simply a doll.

“What just happened. What are you doing.”

“Give me your hair.”

“What?”

“I just need a couple stands, is all.”

“Why?”

“Do it, or I’ll do it for you.”

France dramatically took some hairs from his head, and handed them over. Wordlessly England took the tape he grabbed on his way up and taped the blonde hair to the Ken’s back. He set the doll down and whispered the spell. When he finished he looked up at France, who looked bewildered.

“That was creepy.”

England took hold of the Ken with a fist and lifted it swiftly into the air. His hand covered the torso and its arms. The reaction was immediate. 

France watched England grab the doll, and it suddenly felt like King Kong had decided to grace London with his presence and grab the most beautiful human in the area. France threw his arms out to grab hold of something as he flew into the air, and threw his body back against the wall behind him, screaming. It also felt like he had had a big helping of butterflies earlier and they were coming back up. 

England swung the doll around until France was on the ground, extremely confused. He was being thrown through the air, yet he was sitting on the ground? When he opened his eyes again he was dizzy, but he also saw England swinging the stupid doll around. When he stopped, the feeling stopped. England looked France dead in the eyes and jabbed the doll in the stomach, transfering that feeling to France, who doubled over.

“It’s a voodoo doll.” England said simply.

“You!... But… why?”

“It was my doll until a minute ago. I don’t have any other dolls on hand right now so I switched with you. What it feels, you feel.” To make another example he ran his finger under the naked doll’s feet, knowing France is very touchy about his feet. England was never about to get close, and he suspected they’re ticklish. France sucked in a breath at the touch and instinctively curled his extended legs toward himself, like it would keep the touches away. It seems he was right about him being ticklish, as he barely touched them.

“Don’t do that!” France got himself to his feet and snatched the doll from England’s grip, which turned out to be a mistake as the violent shift had 1) hurt a little and 2) made him even more disoriented than before and he came crashing to the ground like he had just gotten done a night of very excessive drinking. 

Before England could see where France was going, France was already well on his way to landing on the sex doll, which was simply lying on the floor near the closet. He landed shoulder first on it’s forever erect groin. England watched helplessly as France make contact, and America’s scream of true pain came instantaneously from the next room. France snapped back from his disorientation quickly at that sound. 

“What was that?” He asked quickly.

“What do you think, asshole!” England said shooting upright, and running out of the room.

France looked at the sex doll, and at the doorway, through which he could hear England pounding on the door apologizing profusely, and back at the sex doll, then back at the doorway, then back at the doll. The bell was ringing in his head, but France wanted nothing more than to ignore it. But nothing else could have happened.

Oh, no.

France turned a deep beet red and tried to disappear into the floor. England was right earlier. That doesn’t happen usually. What a bad time for him to start being right.

////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\////\\\\\\\

America was lying stiff on the bed with a pillow covering his head and earbuds blasting music to drown out anything that may happen outside of himself. He was actually starting to calm down when the worst nut shot to ever be shot, was delivered unto him by unseen forces. So much pain and there couldn’t be less warning. What was there to do but scream? His body had never moved so fast and so coordinated as it had in that moment when every force in him went into protection mode. Cover the groin, and apply pressure. Jesus Mary and fucking Joseph, why him? Why do these things happen? First yesterday, and now this. Wow, magic fucking sucks lately.  
The pain subsided almost as quickly as it came on, mercifully. At least the voodoo pain doesn’t last. That’s a memory in his head now, though. What that felt like. 

“Alfred! I’m sorry, Alfred! Let me in! Are you okay?”

England was at the door knocking lightly but panicked. America sighed.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go away.”

“Are you sure there’s noth-”

“Away.”

England stopped talking. He remained for a moment before turning back down the hallway.

“What’s wrong with you?!” England screamed into the room.

“I didn’t do anything on purpose!” France cowered in the corner.

England stormed across the room, grabbed the ken doll from France’s side, and slammed it into the ground.

For a moment France was sure he had just died. He was sure his body had shattered and there existed nothing but pain. He yelled, but he could barely hear it over the sound of waves. It must have been Death was washing up to get him. Or, it was the blood in his head. 

In the next moment he was fine. England was standing over his steaming, with a ken doll at his feet.

“Why did you do that? Why?!” France was fuming for the first time that day. He got to his feet and made himself tall as possible. He was towering over England, “Do you have ANY IDEA WHAT THAT FEELS LIKE? I THOUGHT I JUST FUCKING DIED YOU… YOU-”

England cut him off with a shove and France responded similarly. England fell onto the bed and France jumped on top of him. He was ready to strike when a voice filled the little room effortlessly.

“STOP.” America was standing in the doorway. He was not making eye contact with either man, and he had a small blush. “Guys. This is stupid. Just go, France. Please.”

“Alfred, I-”

“It’s fine, just… please.”

France straightened himself and dismounted the bed. He left the silent room and walked down the stairs.

America leaned against the door frame, his shoulders slumped, staring at the doll. His doll.

“I’ll get rid of it.” England offered.

America gave a slight nod. He watched as the other man took the hair off and whispered a spell. A large weight he didn’t know he had lifted from him, and then everything was normal.

England placed his hand on the doll’s stomach to prove they weren’t linked any longer. Without any change in expression or body language America turned and walked back to bed. England followed and saw America just sitting on the side. He hopped up next to him. America leaned himself over and put his head on England’s shoulder.

“Hey.” America said quietly.

“Hi.” England returned.

“I don’t want to do the voodoo stuff any more.”

England reached a hand up and began to stroke America’s hair. “Okay.”

“I liked the powerlessness before, but I knew it was you. I still had some control. I didn’t like it as much yesterday.”

“I know. You don’t need to justify yourself, I understand.”

America breathed in England’s scent, and he savored his touch. This was real. This is what he wanted. 

“Can we lay down?”

In response England leaned back and soon they both were lying facing each other. They laid there until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have a foot fetish idk why I put that one part in


End file.
